


31 Days of Porn, Uglywettie Style - Day #11

by UglyWettieWrites



Series: 31 Days of Porn, Uglywettie Style [4]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Tenth Doctor - Fandom
Genre: 31 Days of Porn Challenge 2017, 31 day of Porn Uglywettie Style, Body Hair, David Tennant - Freeform, Erotica, F/M, Oral Sex, Sex in the TARDIS, Sex with Ten, TARDIS is the wingthing, Telepathic Sex, Tenth Doctor Era, doctor who - Freeform, musk, tenth doctor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-31 03:51:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10891119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UglyWettieWrites/pseuds/UglyWettieWrites
Summary: The TARDIS lands in 19th Century London, where she knows there's an adventurous young woman right up the Doctor's alley.





	31 Days of Porn, Uglywettie Style - Day #11

She lifted her skirts as she jumped over a puddle. A young man passing her by saw her exposed ankles and gave her a hungry look. She turned to give him the best view of her assets, but his wife pulled him away by his ear.

It’s been a shitshow day. Just one john and the sun was setting, and if she didn’t get to the shelter by sundown, she’d have to sleep in the street again.

She pulled down her bodice, and her breasts nearly popped out the top. A young butcher’s assistant carrying a side of pork walked by.

“How much for a go, then?” he yelled.

“Five shillings,” she said, licking her lips. “Or a quick gobble fer two.”

“Get yer ass over here before I ‘ave yer ‘ide,” his father called out to him from the shop door, giving her a villainous look. He blushed more scarlet than the blood on his shirt and skulked off.

She sighed, and disappeared into the relative dark of the alley. She didn’t have much to show for a day’s work, but at least she could afford some bread and cider before retiring.

She heard a strange, rising and falling whooshing sound very close by. There was a flash of light, and something began to appear at the end of the alley. Her eyes widened. She could pray or run or cry, but she was tired. Exhausted. And most of all, curious.

There was a fine mist, and a dark blue box materialized inside it. It had glass windows, and a door, like the tiniest shed in London.

“Strange,” she said out loud. Her feet were glued to the stone.

The door opened, and a tall, slim man came out, squinting in the low light. He looked...full of purpose. Like he had appeared there for a reason. His eyes darted around, and landed on her.

“Hello there!” He stepped out of the box. He wore a brown suit and an oddly colored riding jacket, although there wasn’t a horse in sight.

“Hello there, love,” she said. She still couldn’t quite move. Was she hallucinating? Had the box been there all along, hiding in the dark? Despite it being impossible, she really didn’t think so.

If the box had appeared out of the ether, what did it make him?

“I’m the Doctor,” he said, walking in long strides to her, his hand out. She stared at it, then at him.

“Are you... a demon?” she asked. The box smoked behind him.

“Depends on who you ask, and in what context,” he said, winking at her. His eyes were the color of the Thames at sunrise, glimmering shades of amber and gold that constantly broke apart and shifted with the current. She had looked in the eyes of many, many men.

Those were not the eyes of a man.

She started to pant with fear.

He put his fingers on her temples. “Think peaceful thoughts,” he said softly, and the fear drained from her. “Good.” As she looked at his face, she realized he was handsome in a northern, fresh-faced way. His cheeks were spattered with freckles, and his mouth, currently curved in a warm grin, was more luscious than a high-street suck boy’s.

She giggled at the thought.

He giggled with her. “I suppose it’s a compliment,” he said, putting his hands in his pocket.

“What’s a compliment?” she said, taken aback.

He gave her an appreciative look. She warmed up - she was used to this. He _must_ be a man. His eyes lingered on her cleavage, then traveled to her mouth.

“Would you like to look in my magic box?”

She assumed it was an euphemism. “Is it big?” she said, smiling.

“Unbelievably so,” he said, and opened the creaky door. “Ladies first.”

“Two shillings to play with your box. Five shillings and you can play in mine,” she said.

He nodded once, and she went inside, expecting to have her back to the wall in one step. Instead, she stepped into a cathedral-large room with warm yellow light coming from the walls.

“Fuckin’ hell!” she said, her hands on her waist. “It’s bloody bigger on the inside!”

He snickered and closed the door behind them. “If I had a shilling for every time someone said that…” he said, and walked up the metal gangplank to the console.

To her, it was magic. It had to be. But she was intrigued.

“Who are you?” she said, poking at the buttons and levers on the console. He leaned against one of the coralesque columns. He cocked an eyebrow at her, and the tip of his tongue appeared at the corner of his mouth.

“Does it matter, at this point?” he said.

“Honestly, if you’re money’s good, not at all.” She threw aside her faded silk shawl and walked to him. He took her in his arms and buried his face in her neck, sniffing deeply.

He shivered with pleasure. His nose moved up behind her ear, to her hair. He sniffed again, and groaned.

He said something in a lilting language she did not understand. She arched in his arms, but he stopped and took a step back.

“When is the last time you bathed?” he asked without preamble.

She flushed scarlet. “I clean myself every day,” she said. She did, sometimes sacrificing her lukewarm tea water to give herself a rag bath.

“Of course you do,” he said. He shed his riding jacket, throwing it over the railing by the console. Next, he took off his suit jacket, and his cloth shoes and socks. His feet were pale and lovely against the cool metal. He was a strange man. “I don’t mean rag baths. I mean, a proper bath. In a tub.”

She didn’t have a decent place, much less a tub. “If I’m not up to your usual standard, I can leave right now.”

He ran his fingers through his spiky hair. “I didn’t mean to offend, miss. And you are perfectly lovely as you are. I couldn’t dream of picking another,” he said.

“Miss,” she said rolling her eyes. “That’ll be the day.” She looked around and started to raise her skirt. Her stockings were worn, but they were clean. She was very proud of that. “Let’s have a go, then, handsome. I have to be leaving soon.”

“Where?”

“To sleep.”

“Sleep with me.”

She gave him a funny look. Her mind worked fast. “It’ll be more expensive.” She looked around at his odd equipment.” Much more.”

“Deal,” he said. “Let me show you my bedroom,” he said, giving her a disarmingly warm smile and walking into an arched doorway. The room beyond was smaller, and warmer. What was strangest was it was spherical. Everything had smooth curves, no corners. Even his bed was round, and covered with soft, fluffy sheets in a luminescent purple.

Sleep. In that bed, and not a drafty corner in a boarding house floor? It made her wet to think of it.

He took off his tie and threw it over his shoulder. The rounded ceiling above his head seemed to breathe. A few shy stars twinkled in it.

“That’s beautiful,” she said, her hand over her mouth.

“Ursa Minor." He walked to her and pointed to the shiniest star, at the very top. “Polaris. Your north star, which has helped sailors find their way for thousands of years,” he whispered in her ear. His breath was warm and honey-scented.

“How do you know? Can you name them all?” she said, giggling. Maybe he was a scientist. It explained the box, and his funny clothes. She’d had several of them in the past, and they tended to be awkward, but gentle. And they got off on showing their knowledge.

He put his arm around her waist. “Sure, although I’m a bit rusty. This part of space isn’t exactly my neighborhood,” he said. “You see how you can connect the dots five times from Polaris?”

She squinted. “Yeah. Up and to the left.”

They counted together. “The fifth star is called Kochab. Then, right above, is Phercad. Together they form what the Babylonians called the Wagon of Heaven.”

“The Wagon of Heaven,” she repeated, fascinated. He pulled up her skirt slowly, and his hand went into the back of her bloomers to squeeze. She was damp between her firm cheeks, and he brought his hand to his nose to take in her scent.

His eyes glowed in the low light, and he let out a whimper.

She turned and started to undress, but he tugged on her wrists. “Let me.”

He untied her bodice slowly, then unbuttoned her skirt and let it fall to the floor. Her stays were not tight since she had to do them herself, so they fell away easily. She held her arms over her head as he took off her chemise. He held it against his face and took a deep, trembling breath.

Again, he spoke in a language she could not understand. His pants were familiarly tented. He was ready.

She reached out, but he knelt in front of her to untie her bloomers. He undid the bows eagerly.

He eyed her cleft, covered in soft, curling hair, and his face took on a rictus of pain. His hands traveled up her thighs. He licked his suckboy lips and buried his face between her legs. He moaned as he took a deep, deep, deep breath - it seemed to go on preternaturally long - then stood up quickly to carry her to the bed.

He looked at her, nude and magnificently scented. He loved human woman scent. It aroused him like nothing else, and women from this particular time period smelled the most enticing. As beautiful as modern women were, they over-deodorized. And how could he possibly broach that subject?

“Umm...you look lovely, Martha, but could you not bathe tonight? Just...let yourself be.”

And what of beautiful, fresh-skinned Rose? It would’ve been a disaster.

“What’s your name?” he asked her as he unbuttoned his pants.

“Saskia,” she said, stretching out on his Ionian silk sheets. Her skin glowed against the deep, rich purple.

Her ruddy, well-used scent rose from her warm flesh and made his skin burn with lust. He closed his eyes and concentrated, manipulating his hormones on the molecular level so he did not burst into flame.

She spread her legs and put her knees up high. She was already wet. He jumped into bed and breathed her in deeply again, honing his desire. He moved up her body, smelling flower powder and delicious sweat. He sniffed, then licked her belly, then underneath her breasts, then her underarms, which were also covered in fine, silky hair.

Gloriously, she began to sweat as he kissed her, and her scent made him thirsty for her.

“Turn around, Saskia,” he said. She obeyed, lifting her knee high to give him a good look at her charms.

“If you only knew,” he said, as he positioned himself right behind her. His warm breath tickled the skin of her ass.

“What?” She ran her fingers through his hair, which she was surprised to feel was not sticky with macassar.

“This,” he said, spreading her cheeks. She twitched in his gaze. There was a fine, soft hair there too. He ran his finger down her slick cleft. “It’s so rare. A timeless treasure,” he said.

She smiled. He was one of those men who waxed poetic when their cock was up.

“And all for-” She took a deep breath as he put his mouth on her, moaning and sucking her asshole.

“Fuck!” she said out loud. She no longer cared about being ladylike. He vibrated. His whole body, but most deliciously, his tongue, vibrated against her flesh. He sucked the musky sweat from her cleft and moved down to her cunt, where he sniffed and groaned again, rubbing his cheeks against her wet hair.

When his magic tongue touched her clit, she came. Hard, and loud. But he’d just begun. He lifted her up and balanced her on his face. She looked down at his tight, naked body and leaned down to take his cock in her mouth.

It vibrated too. So hard it made the roof of her mouth numb, but she didn’t stop. She licked down the shaft of his cock and sucked on his balls, then swirled her tongue back up to the tip of his cock, where he was dripping precum.

She wrapped her fist around the base, wondering at the bone deep vibration, and he dripped on her parted lips. His precum was thick, almost resinous, but crystal clear.

And sweet and vegetal as honey.

She squeezed slowly up his cock and he seeped fresh arousal. She tasted him again. It was fucking honey. Not musk. Not sweat. But sweetness.

She wondered what came out when he spent.

He slid his magic tongue in her cunny, and she lost her concentration. He made happy little rooting sounds between her thighs, and her hip bones vibrated with his touch. She felt his tongue everywhere. It felt thicker, longer than other tongues - almost enough. He swirled it deep inside her, stretching her.

Her fingers dug into the tight flesh of his hips and his cock seeped honey that dripped off her parted lips. She lay her head on his flat belly and began to ride his face, lost to the sensation. He licked her in a slow, trolling rhythm that made her moan into his skin.

It was the best fuck she’d ever had, and he wasn’t even inside her.

“Take me,” she said.

He pressed her harder into his face.

“Please, Doctor.” She had his manhood grasped in her fist, but she didn’t want to move and ruin the pleasure.

**Not until you fill my mouth, lass.**

She heard his voice clear as a bell in her head and bucked.

**Does it feel nice?**

Better than hot chocolate and profiteroles at Madame Dupuis’, she thought. A friend who had gotten off the street took her there once as a treat. It had been one of the best days of her life.

**I can do better than that.**

His tongue seemed to puff up and vibrate harder. The tip pressed into a secret place inside her that made her gasp. She let out a funny wheeze.

He laughed, long and rich and deep, in her head. **Better than pastry?**

She nodded slowly at the wall.

He hummed into her skin and slid his finger into her asshole.

She was filling. A pleasurable pressure grew in her lower belly. She buried her face between his legs, where he smelled of crushed green leaves and her eager saliva.

**Let it build...**

She grunted softly, trembling. She wanted to come. She let her thoughts drift to the soft bed, warmth, and the Wagon of Heaven shining above her head. It blew her mind. After this, she could stay, and rest like a proper lady?

**You should see my kitchen. Mme Dupuis has nothing on it.**

She chuckled into him, and the flutter of her belly muscles set off her orgasm. She bucked into his face and let go in his mouth. Oddly, she kept laughing, because it only made it feel more intense.

**She’s always right, the minx!**

He lifted her off him and his whole face was glossy. A tendril of hair stuck to his forehead, but he was dazed with pleasure.

“It’s not pee,” she said quickly, kneeling on the bed.

He smiled and pushed her back, spreading her legs wide.

“More?” she said, actually surprised.

“So much more,” he said.

He lay on top of her and kissed her forehead, taking a deep breath in her long, dark hair.

**You smell clever.**

She heard the thought clearly, and giggled.

He slid inside her and her muscles tightened around him as if he were electrified. 

**Relax. I only want to give you pleasure.**

Her belly quivered, and her heart rate increased as he moved inside her, his rentboy mouth hot on her neck. Everything ached for release, not only her cunt. Her hairs stood on end, and her hard nipples hurt against his chest. Most of all, her brain felt funny, like she’d smoked opium.

Images rippled behind her eyelids, first inchoate as smoke, then clearing as his rhythm increased.

_She ran down an alley, with her hand in his, and into the light. Carriages flew in the air, horseless and silent. He yelled something at her, then took a strange, blue tipped pen from his suit pocket and pointed it at their pursuer…_

_A shining suit, like a knight, but there was no body in the metal shell._

Her mouth opened to scream, but she moaned instead.

He was hot. Almost scalding. Her inner thighs and her belly were covered in sweat. But her cunny - it sucked eagerly at his surging cock despite the heat. She ran her fingers through his hair, then pulled him in for a kiss, something she never did.

Again, she tasted honey. Hot, dripping honey.

And the images were much stronger.

_She wore boots and pants like a soldier. A giant creature with suckers like an octopus nearly had him, but she skewered it before it could choke him. He smiled at her from the floor, but he was hurt, and she fed him some of the crystallized ginger she always kept in her pocket. He let out a dusty cough and bounced back up again, giving her a dashing smile._

“ _Saskia,” he said, slapping the dust off his riding coat, “As ever, you manage to save me without breaking a sweat.”_

_She pulled the spike from the dead creature. “The difference, Doctor, is that I’m not averse to making things bleed.“-_

She took a long, whooping breath. The ceiling was filled with stars now, and they twinkled brighter and brighter, breathing, pulsing along with every beat of her heart.

Her whole skeleton buzzed in D minor, a miraculous thing.

He kissed her hard, running his tongue along her teeth, and pressing the tip to her hard palate as he fucked deep into her, relishing the way the bony wings of her hips vibrated around his cock in stereo. She was perfect, for the moment.

For a creature beyond time, a moment was more precious than a millenia of solitary adventures. What was the point of knowledge if you couldn’t share it?

**I adore your music, but it’s such a sad key.**

She curled underneath him. Her fingertips dug into the small of his back with their shared orgasm, and their cries make the stars above them spin out into swirling lines.

He rolled off her and they lay, spread eagle and panting, on their backs.

“Doctor?” she said softly.

He reached out to hold her hand. It had taken real effort not to burn her, but the room was still jungle steamy with their heat.

“I saw you. Felt you. In my head.”

“It’s a little skill I have,” he said, turning to her. “Did you like what you saw?”

She shook her head, still awestruck.

“I was...we were...you did…” she couldn’t get the words out. He squeezed her hand. It centered her. “Yes, I did. It was brilliant. I saved your life.” She laughed with her whole body, rolling over to kiss his freckled cheek. She hissed when it nearly burned her lips.

He smiled at her, blinking his glowing eyes slowly. They were more lovely than the stars swirling above them.

“You will. And many more times than that.”

“You’re a lunatic,” she said, letting go of his hand. Now that the orgasm was fading, reality was seeping back into her brain.

“Technically I’m not, since I’m like this all the time, not just on a full moon,” he said. She stood and started to put her clothes back on.

He rolled over on his stomach and tucked his chin in his hands, letting her vent.

“Pfft. _Will,"_ she grumbled aloud. "As if he knows anything about anything traveling around time and space in his bloomin' TARDIS-” her mouth snapped shut.

How did she know her name? It was clear as day, like her own.

She looked up at his ceiling. Polaris winked at her.

“Fuckin’ hell,” she said again.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “While I was in your head, you might’ve had a bit of a look in mine,” he said. He sat up and picked up his pants. “Now I’m wondering exactly what else you saw.”

She walked into the other room.

“She’s alive,” she said, staring at her glowing heart at the center of the console, dazed. She reached out and felt a crackle at the tips of her fingers, as if she’d reached out to touch her.

He put on his shirt and buttoned it. “She brought me to you.”

Her eyes traveled up the column. Its light pulsed steady as a heart beat.

Why did she always have to upstage him? She was a lovely young woman, with her hair tousled and damp with sweat, wearing nothing but a chemise and a dazzled grin. Her earthy, delicious, freshly fucked scent filled the room. Sweat crackled on his hot skin. Already, he wanted her again. But this time, he wanted her to choose him.

He blew a raspberry to get her attention back. Her thoughts whispered, but nothing he could understand without contact. The hum, at first discordant to his, began to click into place bit by bit, like notes aligned to make a melody. She cocked her head at him.

“Why ginger, Doctor?” she said.

The question itself was a tacit agreement. For the moment, he wouldn’t remain alone. He laughed and bounced lightly with happiness. “Because it heals.”

“Oh really? Next you'll be saying tea is a panacea,” she said, picking up his riding jacket and putting it on. She looked delicate as a child in the over sized thing. “Speaking of food, I’m starving. Where’s that kitchen?”

“Follow me,” he said, already cooking up their first adventure in his head.

**Author's Note:**

> I suppose if you've read my Doctor After Dark one shots, you might be wondering why when the Doctor is in our past, he inevitably seems to come together with...women of the night.
> 
> It's very simple. He likes traveling with adventurous, clever, beautiful young human women. He always has, and always will. 
> 
> The rub is that it is only in the very recent past that jumping into a mysterious magic box with a handsome alien was not seen as absolutely scandalous.
> 
> Saskia, and for that matter Magdalena, in their heart of hearts, are just women with minds beyond their time. And the Doctor can't resist an intrepid woman.


End file.
